Episode 1 – Ray the Stray Dog
"Still not back yet? Damn, I'm craving fried chicken..."
The sharp tone he used in-game softened the moment he started whining about food.
BANG BANG BANG BANG!
"Or maybe you stopped by to see your side chick~?"
His voice drifted lazily as if he were alone, but the looming shadow beside him made him snap his head around. Short cropped hair whipped at his neck.
BOOM!! BOOM BOOM BOOM!
Explosions thundered on screen, flames flashing red across his face.
A twisted grin spread on the side of his lips—so chilling it could freeze blood.
His teammate watched in horror as their character got blown to bits, turned into fertilizer, all while they were supposed to be on the same team.
One sat glaring at the monitor, the other sprawled on the couch, casually mashing the game controller with one hand.
Just the mention of "someone" made the gun barrel turn—not at the enemy on screen—but straight at his own teammate.
RATATATATATA!!
Bullets tore through pixelated flesh. His teammate's character collapsed lifelessly.
The enemy team froze, confused—like, "Bro, what crack are you on? Shooting your own guy?"
Same team… and yet he bombed his buddy to death.
KA-BOOM!!
As if that wasn't enough, he lobbed a grenade on the body, snuffing out the last sliver of HP.
Dead. For real. No joke.
The thin lips of his teammate dropped open, eyes bulged, and the controller slipped from his hands. His strength vanished in an instant.
"The fuck! Why'd you shoot me?! I'm on your team, asshole RAY!!"
The hot-headed teen number one grabbed Ray by the collar, shaking him and spitting curses. Saliva sprayed everywhere.
But the bastard just tilted his head, plucked a tissue, and wiped his cheek with dainty fingers, posing like some diva who'd just stolen the spotlight.
The other teammates in voice chat laughed their asses off in his headset.
This wasn't the first time Ray went psycho and friendly-fired his squad despite their perfect teamwork.
Nobody knew how the hell they ever ranked number one with this lunatic.
"Don't you dare touch my wife. Don't play with the divine. That's my offering, you punk-ass."
Ray's long finger jabbed at the pretty-boy teammate clenching his fists, ready to swing.
The so-called "leader" of the gang rubbed the tip of his nose, tilting his chin like some wannabe movie hero—spouting cheesy lines as if he'd stepped right out of an old drama.
"If she's my wife, she must endure."
But his friends always said—
"If you're Ray's friend, you have to endure more."
Nearly twenty-four, tall and broad-shouldered, skin pale as porcelain.
Completely shirtless, his ripped body almost bare save for one sad pair of pink checkered boxer shorts.
Squatting on the floor, controller in hand, his oversized balls practically sagged against his thighs.
The only "bling" on him was a chunky silver chain with a pendant shaped like the letter R—borrowed (stolen) from the real owner of the condo. He'd claimed it as his own ages ago.
No one even had to ask—clearly, the condo owner was way too kind.
As for this freeloader?
Handsome, yes. But lacking in more ways than one. You wouldn't find him sold anywhere—more like picked up off the street.
Famous for his flair for theatrics despite graduating with a business degree.
Right now, though? His status was clear:
The shameless stray who begged his way into someone else's home.
Episode 1.5 – Dogfight Banter
The broad-shouldered hunk sat cross-legged, glued to the fighting game.
Veins bulged across his hands and arms as he smashed the controller, eyes sharp and locked on the giant flat-screen TV hooked up to the newest console. His face was stone cold, jaw tight, the kind of sexy intensity that could make anyone's mouth water. He muttered without glancing away—aimed at the pretty junior, a former engineering campus heartthrob.
"It was just an assumption, man."
The pretty-boy sneered, squinting his eyes into slits as if his name had been insulted.
"I went trigger-happy too, okay?"
Ray smirked at the corner of his lips, shrugged like he didn't care.
The one sprawled out dead in-game grumbled, waiting for the next match.
"So… you in love with him yet?"
Rome tossed out the question with a mischievous grin, his voice dripping with tease now that he had nothing better to do after being kicked from the game.
"Love? Please. Just a stand-in for my needs. Works fine."
The words spilled naturally, obscene as breathing, like he'd grown up in a porn studio. Just mentioning the condo's true owner was enough to twist Ray's face into a perverted smirk.
"That good, huh? Bet you nearly pissed yourself from the thrill."
The pretty-boy winked, biting his lip, rubbing his crotch with obvious lewdness. Ray tore his eyes from the screen for just a second, then shot a wicked glare down at his friend's groin. With one massive hand, he shoved Rome's head toward his own lap, all while gaming with the other hand like a pro.
"Open your mouth—I'll piss right in." Ray grinned devilishly, thrusting his hips obscenely.
Rome thrashed, kicking and shoving at the shameless brute until his hair was a mess, shouting in disgust.
"The fuck, Ray! That's nasty as hell!"
He finally pulled free from the monstrous package, pointing and cursing, stomping his foot.
"Smell good, huh?"
"Good my ass! Save that shit for your cop boyfriend. The fact he even sleeps with you is already insane."
"Insane how? He didn't even know who my dad was and still took me in. Imagine if he knew? He'd be obsessed to death."
Pyramid: "Your ego's bigger than your balls."
Versailles: "He only took you in because you looked like a wet dog in the rain."
Rome: "You played the tragic stray act until he slipped—and then you devoured him."
Pyramid: "And now you worship his dick morning and night."
Rome: "You're filthy, man."
Ray: "What, you hiding under my bed? Narrating every scene?"
Versailles: "Dirty sex jokes—that's your specialty."
Ray: "Damn right. I'm good at it."
Rome: "Pah!"
Pyramid: "Pah!"
Versailles: "Pah!"
Ray: "Heh, heh, heh, heh~"